


Sleep Deprived

by afteriwake



Series: A Little Holmes [31]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Concerned John Watson, Established Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, John is a Good Friend, John is a Saint, Light Angst, Lullabies, POV Molly Hooper, Parenthood, Past Kidnapping, Protective Sherlock, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Composing, Sick Character, Sleep Deprivation, Talking, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 17:36:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11063865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: When the twins come down with colic it leaves the entire Holmes-Hooper household sleep deprived, and in the midst of coming up with solutions, a discussion about the protection of the family comes to the forefront.





	Sleep Deprived

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daisherz365](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisherz365/gifts).



> So this is the first part of my answer to a headcanon from **[daisherz365](http://sincerelydayyy.tumblr.com/post/121217446585/let-there-be-headcanons-ii)** that goes " _Sherlock composing three different lullabies when their baby is having trouble sleeping,_ " where he's actually composing the lullabies for his three children. The second half will be when he begins to play them for him, and that fic (as well as this one) will be belated Christmas gifts for **iloveforensics**.

“Bloody hell, Molly, you look like you haven’t slept a wink,” John said when Molly opened the door to Baker Street, a fussy Abigail on her hip.

“Both the twins have colic,” she said before yawning. “And because _they_ won’t sleep _this one_ won’t sleep.” John shut the door behind him and held out his arms for Abigail and Molly handed her over with a grateful smile. “Oh, if there were toddler-sized earplugs I’m sure Abigail would love a pair to let her sleep through the racket her brother and sister make. Lord knows I wish I could.”

“Well, Mary and I could take her off your hands for a bit,” John said. “I mean, we’d offer with the twins, but...”

“But you need your sanity to deal with the wee ones you see at the surgery,” she said. “But no, I think Abigail would love a few sleepover nights with her godfather and Mary, wouldn’t you, love?”

“Yea Mum,” Abigail said, settling her head on John’s shoulder before yawning herself.

“I don’t think Sherlock will mind. I don’t even think he’s noticed much, to be honest,” Molly said as they made their way to the stairs.

“He isn’t shirking duties, is he?” John asked.

Molly nodded. “No, he’s usually up. I actually have to remind _him_ to sleep so it’s rather like having four children at the moment, with one a bit more capable of helping handle the others. See for yourself.” They made it to the sitting room and Molly waved her hand to indicate what looked like an explosion of sheet music around every flat surface in the room, and Sherlock moving between them, straightening some pieces and scribbling notes on others and occasionally moving whole sheets. “The only time the twins quiet down is when he plays the violin. So he’s composing lullabies. Three of them. At once. One for each of them.”

“Good Lord,” John said, his eyes wide.

“I swear, if I gave him his coffee in a bottle I doubt he’d notice. And frankly, there are some mornings I’m so tired I’m half surprised I don’t make my _own_ coffee that way.”

“I would stop you before you melted the plastic nib,” Sherlock said without looking up from his sheet music.

“You both need an extra set of hands here,” John said with a frown. “I know you’d mentioned hiring a live-in and all, but have you given it serious thought?”

“To be honest I’ve given running away more serious thought than anything else lately,” Molly said. “But an extra set of hands would do us good, I suppose.”

“You know Mycroft will vet anyone before they walk through the door for an interview,” Sherlock said. “They’ll most likely be on his payroll. Possibly MI-6 agents with childcare skills.”

Molly raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you pulling my leg?” she asked. Sherlock looked up from his sheet music, shaking his head. “Seriously? I appreciate all he’s done for us, I do, but sending a _spy_ to watch my children?”

“It worked for Vin Diesel,” Sherlock said. Molly and John both gaped at him. “Abigail finds his voice oddly soothing. I’ve watched his entire filmography by this point with her when she’s fussy. She simply listens. ‘The Pacifier’ is her favorite, though, because she loves ‘The Peter Panda Dance.’”

John grinned. “Do you happen to know the words to this song?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“And the dance?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“And you will hear me do the routine when you are on your deathbed and too blind and deaf to notice,” Sherlock said.

Molly had to chuckle at that. “Enough, both of you,” she said. “Back to the matter at hand. While I appreciate the concern do we really need that much security? It’s been a long time since...everything. There is top of the line security and I know as much as we both hate it nearly every inch of this home is under CCTV monitoring.”

“Our eldest daughter has been kidnapped twice before I knew you were pregnant. With you and three children here now, I would prefer armed guards at the door at all times, to be quite frank,” Sherlock said simply.

Molly nodded. She understood that. She didn’t feel the same level of gut panic that Sherlock did, she knew that, but there were times she’d find herself waking up and double checking locks at the doors and windows when there was a strange noise. As much as she loved this flat, she wondered at times if they were safe _enough_ there. “Then I suppose we let your brother vet potential live-in help for us, then.”

Sherlock nodded and then went back to his music while she turned to John. “You’ll see it’s a good move to make,” he said.

“I know.” She looked at Abigail, who had finally fallen asleep against John, and knew that it was. She knew that in the end having someone there who could take care of the children _and_ protect them would be in everyone’s best interest. Just because James Moriarty and George Wellington were dead didn’t mean everyone who held a grudge against Sherlock had died with them. Between them, they’d managed to take Irene with them, and the thought of losing any of the children or Sherlock chilled her to the bone. She just hoped she never had to experience what he’d gone through with the family as it was now. She didn’t if she’d have his strength.


End file.
